


evidence of a love that transcends hunger

by lucidbabbles



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:45:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidbabbles/pseuds/lucidbabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Charles and Erik fly across the country and are oblique about their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	evidence of a love that transcends hunger

“Honestly,” Charles says fretfully, “you needn’t come with, Erik.” 

Erik chooses to ignore Charles’ fifteenth iteration in as many minutes, and instead focuses on closing the suitcase. He thinks he might have to sit on it; one of Charles’ hardcover books is proving to be a very difficult object to compress. 

“Oh, my in-flight reading material! I was looking for that.” Charles perks up and makes a _gimme_ motion. Erik sighs, pries the book out (only Charles would consider Steven Pinker light reading), hands it to his husband. At least the suitcase will close now. He zips it shut with finality.

Charles decides to try one last time. “Are you _sure_ you want to come along? You’ve always grumbled about taking leave and coming back to a terrible workload.” 

“I’ve made sure it won’t happen this time,” Erik grunts as he hefts the suitcase towards the front door. “Not if Summers knows what’s good for him.”

“He’s a very responsible young man,” Charles says reprovingly. “I don’t see why you insist on terrorizing your subordinates.” But he finally drops the topic of leaving Erik at home while he goes flying across the country, so Erik will take an out when given one. 

“That’s because my rule of terror is the only thing keeping everyone _responsible_. You’ve obviously never seen the office after lunch hour.” The office after lunch hour is a very indolent and useless group of minions; Cassidy usually openly sleeps at his desk and Raven doesn’t even pretend to do work. Sometimes he despairs of their generation.

Charles dimples at him. “I think you’re taking the totalitarian regime a bit too far, my love. Raven has mentioned that you’re shouting more often than usual; that sort of stress can’t be good for you.”

Just for that, Erik is going to make Raven deal with Hammer’s complaints at the next client meeting.

*

Charles is right; he doesn’t usually take time off from work. But it’s Charles’ third book and it’s a nation-wide book tour, complete with guest lecturing at various universities. It’s a very busy schedule and Erik doubts even Charles’ typically indefatigable good humour will last the two weeks—Charles does like his sleep. 

Charles’ head lolls precariously on his shoulder, letting out a very demure snore. There’s a small patch of drool on his shirt, and Erik resists the urge to sigh fondly. 

He still waves down the air stewardess for a poorly made gin and tonic, though. God knows he’ll need the alcohol when the plane lands.

*

The hotel room is a respectable suite, but only because Erik had asked for the upgrade. 

“Oh, come now, Erik,” Charles says, amused. “You didn’t so much _ask_ as you did intimidate.” He adds, _And you really needn’t have made her cry._

Erik shoots back, _It’s not my fault she couldn’t handle a tough customer._ And maybe he went a bit overboard with the smile (Charles calls that his “Bruce the shark, like from _Nemo_!” smile), but seeing Charles beam at the giant bed and ten pillows is worth the pang of guilt he might or might not have felt at making the concierge burst into tears.

“You are terrible,” Charles says fondly. 

In response, Erik tugs Charles over by his wristwatch so he can kiss him. It’s a slow, thorough kiss, and Erik can feel Charles’ exasperation melt into indulgence even as he pulls away with a final lick to his lower lip. _You’re still going to apologize to that poor girl later_ , Charles insists. _She didn’t deserve the nightmare she’s probably going to have tonight, all that teeth—_

Erik rolls his eyes but reaches for Charles, who stumbles forward quite willingly. _I know we’ve talked about this at length_ , Charles continues earnestly, _but I think that you really should put more effort into your people skills._ He does lift his arms so Erik can tug his jumper over his head, so Erik continues to valiantly ignore Charles’ chatter and focuses instead on undressing him. 

“Charles,” Erik says patiently. He’s started on Charles’ shirt.

And Charles grins back at him, the one he thinks is coquettish but that Erik privately finds ridiculously adorable for a grown man. _Let me help you with that_ , Charles says, and even the thought is breathless.

*

For all that genetics is a rather complex and therefore inaccessible subject to laymen, the reception to Charles’ book is unexpectedly warm. The queues at his bookstore events trail out the entrance, and his guest lectures are filled to standing. Charles’ agent is ecstatic.

“Yes, Jean,” Charles says over the phone, “we’re on our way to the university right now, do stop worrying—I can feel you fretting all the way across the city.” He pauses. “Maybe we should talk about that during dinner.”

Erik turns his head to see Charles looking thoughtfully at him, his lips pursed. 

_What’s wrong_ , Erik thinks. Charles’s expression eases into something more placid. 

“Goodbye, Jean,” he says gently but firmly, hanging up. “I’ll tell you later, darling, but if you don’t turn at this corner we’re going to miss the entrance.”

Erik feels a flicker of unease, but dutifully drives the car into the university parking lot. 

*

Charles is a brilliant orator, all boyish enthusiasm and deft explanations even as he’s going on about radioactive mutagens and nucleotide base-pairs. Erik is a metallurgical engineer; he’s not going to pretend that he understands aneuploidy or whatever it is that Charles is now happily talking about. He’s pretty sure that at least half the audience doesn’t either, only carried along by Charles’ sheer ebullience. 

The slide show comes to an end, and when Charles cheerfully asks, “Any questions?” the response is immediate and overwhelming. Several hands shoot up into the air. Charles peers into the audience. “Ah, Dr Yousef. A pleasure to see you again.”

Dr Yousef is no less genial. “Professor, that was a wonderful presentation as usual. Your theories about the chromosomal translocation in…”

Erik tunes out. Charles will let him know when he’s finished whatever animated discussion he’s getting into, and so maybe he’s more than a little cranky for missing out on coffee at breakfast this morning, but he’s resolutely not complaining because he did insist on coming along on Charles’ wildly popular Book Tour From Hell. He’s definitely going to be double-fisting red eyes at lunch, though. 

He looks over to where Charles is now grinning gleefully and gesticulating energetically at squiggly crosses on the screen. At a late lunch, he amends with no small amount of resignation. 

_You really can go ahead without me, you know_ , comes Charles’ mild suggestion. _I’m afraid that you may be right about this discussion taking some time._

Charles isn’t looking at Erik, he’s still outwardly focusing his blue-eyed attention on another question—this time from a young Asian woman with blue streaks in her hair and wearing a very stained lab coat—but then Charles always did like to multitask. 

_I’ll wait_ , Erik thinks drily. 

There’s a pause, as the girl rambles to the end of her question, and Charles starts to respond. Nevertheless, _I take no pleasure in telling you “I told you so”, darling, but your boredom is rather distracting_ , even as Charles says, “The selectionist theory for codon bias that you’re talking about is _quite_ fascinating, Miss Wong—“

 _I’m fine_ , Erik doesn’t really snap back, but the slight irritation must have carried over as Charles winces a little in his speech. 

*

He’s occupying himself by trying to see if he can calculate the actual value amount of cash in the lecture hall. It’s a rather tedious process, carefully keeping track of the various alloys that indicate the coins' values, then adding up a mental tally, but he’s somewhere in the region of two hundred dollars when Charles finally thanks his audience and wanders over to Erik, politely waving off any people approaching him.

“I _am_ sorry, my love,” Charles says, kissing Erik on the cheek. He doesn’t say what for, specifically, but there’s _bad airplane food, that terrible bed from three nights ago, no coffee—oh my darling, I am so sorry._ Erik snorts a little, but doesn’t pull away from Charles’ impression of a very apologetic and clingy sloth.

“There’s a café a block away from the university that does excellent crab cakes,” he does say, though, and tugs gently at Charles’ wristwatch as they shuffle out the exit. 

*

Dinner with Jean Grey is usually either very loud or completely silent. Tonight it’s the latter; Erik just drinks his soup while Jean and Charles glare at each other across the table, engaging in a mutely vociferous argument. 

He supposes that decades ago, the sight of two diners enacting what was apparently a cold war at a restaurant would have gotten some stares, maybe a polite query from the wait staff. But it’s the 21st century and their waiter is a teenager who probably looks more outlandish due to his multiple face piercings than because he has green scales. Two telepaths arguing as efficiently as they know how would probably only garner interest because one of them is Charles Xavier of East Coast old money fame, and the other is a very beautiful redhead. 

Erik sips at his wine. 

“I don’t suppose I can persuade you, then,” Jean finally says. She sounds more exasperated than upset, so Charles had obviously been very winsome in his closing arguments. She shoots Erik a somewhat waspish look, confirming that. 

Charles renews his attention to his own bowl of soup. “That would be correct, Jean.” He takes a spoonful, considers the bread basket, then, “It wouldn’t be very fair on Erik.”

Erik blinks, a little thrown. “What are you talking about,” he says, the unease from earlier in the day settling back into his gut. 

Jean huffs a little. “The feedback from his book tour has been good, but the response from his guest appearances on the lecture circuit is even better. A number of other universities have extended invitations to Charles, and some of them want him to maybe spend a semester or two on their faculty.” 

There’s a weird mix of emotions churning inside Erik, and he considers what to say. Charles hasn’t looked up from where he’s assiduously applied himself to buttering his bread. “That’s great,” he finally manages. And it is, because Charles is _brilliant_ and that’s a well-established fact in the world of academics. Charles deserves all the accolades and recognition given to him, and Erik is fucking _proud_ of his husband. Extended guest lecturing however…

“I wouldn’t be in New York for the better part of a year,” Charles agrees, mumbling through a mouthful of bread. “Not that I dislike the idea of talking to and meeting the other fine young minds America has to offer in the field of genetics, but I am rather invested in a project that Hank and I have going on right now. And I’m rather attached to my office in Columbia,” he adds as an afterthought.

Jean rolls her eyes. “You always have a project going on,” she points out, but it’s fond now. “Charles, you had me as your lab assistant for three years; I spent more time in the labs than I did at home.”

“True, but _science_!” Charles chirps.

The rest of dinner is livelier. Jean engages Erik in a somewhat childish game of levitating the cutlery near the kitchen so the drawers rattle; the waiters shoot them first startled, then nasty looks, and Charles merely laughs and eggs them on. There’s a very nice crème brûlée for dessert, served to them by the maître d’ with an arched eyebrow. Erik makes sure to leave a very generous tip.

He doesn’t feel uncertain, not precisely. 

*

They’re in their hotel room for the night, and Charles is sleepily pillowed on Erik’s chest while Erik watches CNN. The world, as usual, is going to shit.

 _That’s because you make it a point to watch all the terrible parts_ , Charles thinks drowsily. _Sometimes they have nice bits where Angelina Jolie gets married in a dress her children decorated._

 _Scribbled on_ , Erik corrects. _And the terrible parts are the important parts, unfortunately, so that’s most of the news. Not everyone adores tabloid gossip as much as you do, Charles._

There’s a mild flare of indignance, followed by sleepy and amused agreement. _I could have been a socialite, too._

“A terrible one,” Erik points out. “You’re too sincere and earnestly charming to survive.”

“That’s what Emma said,” Charles says, delighted at the backhanded compliment. “She always was right.”

Erik snorts. Emma Frost channels her telepathy into a serene and contemptuous omniscience.

 _Don’t be mean, darling_ , Charles reproaches. _Emma is a perfectly lovely person and she’s a wonderful friend._

There’s flash of memory where Erik remembers Emma at his wedding, sardonic even while expressionless from where she stood in the front pew next to Stark and Raven. Raven had been busy not-crying into Tony’s sleeve, but Emma had stared directly at Erik as he stood at the altar with Charles. He’d been too busy grinning dazedly back at Charles, disbelieving even then at his sheer good luck, _he was marrying Charles_ , and there had been a faint, amused _you’ll do_ in his head. 

_Emma always did like to be shadowy and secretive_ , Charles says fondly. _She approves of you, you know._

Erik grunts non-committally. 

There’s a peaceful silence between them while CNN goes through its latest news cycle, then, _She told me I’d be an idiot not to keep you._

“I’m not a pet, Charles,” Erik says. “Emma Frost and her megalomania is catching.” But he’s feeling warm now, and maybe a little more cheered than he’s felt in days.

Charles hums. _I didn’t say it at dinner, but Jean knows anyway. I turned down the invitations because I knew you’d be unhappy._

“No,” Erik starts, defensively. Because he wasn’t, he's glad for Charles.

 _Oh my love, of course I didn’t mean that_ , Charles says. _But you couldn’t possibly come along if I agreed to lecture across the country for a year, and you get so wretched and dour when you’re by yourself for too long._

 _You didn’t have to turn this down on my account_ , Erik thinks, a little furious. _I’m a grown man and this is a fucking good opportunity for you, Charles._

“Erik,” Charles says, sounding exasperated. “I was trying to preserve a little manly dignity. _I’d miss you too much_.”

“Oh,” Erik says. Then, “I’m feeling second-hand embarrassment here, or maybe you’re projecting.”

“You’re terrible,” Charles mutters, flushing a little and turning away from Erik. “I don’t think I like you anymore.”

 _But you miss me_ , Erik thinks impishly, and gets a pillow to the face for his troubles. 

*

By the time they land back in New York, Charles is a pasty mess of bedraggled professor and Erik isn’t much better. Raven spots them in arrivals, waves her cardboard sign at them.

“Mr and Mr _Xensherr_ ,” Erik repeats incredulously to Raven. “What the hell is that supposed to be?”

Raven tuts. “It’s a portmanteau, seeing as neither of you are doing the antiquated tradition of adopting your better half’s surname. _Xensherr_ seemed more posh than _Lavier_.”

“Is that all you did while I was gone,” Erik says, flatly. Charles is unconscious in the back seat next to him, mouth open and snoring a little. Erik _adores_ him.

“Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Sean built a metal sculpture out of the scraps from the last project. He’s trying to build the world’s largest bong, I think.”

“ _What_.”

Raven takes a right turn, hard and fast, and Charles sways into Erik’s shoulder. There’s a sense of deep contentment in the car, like the sleepy morning kisses that Charles likes. Raven rolls her eyes.

“If it’s any consolation, Alex is helping him with the structural integrity; there hasn’t been any major collapses since last week, it’s actually looking really good.”

“ _We. Are. Professionals_ ,” Erik grits out, trying for furious but ending up somewhere between resigned and a little impressed. “We have _deadlines_ to meet!”

She flaps a dismissive hand at him. “Tony helped a little; we’re on schedule, boss, relax.” 

“What I want to know,” Charles says sleepily, “is where the weed is going to come from.”

“ _Stop encouraging them_!”

**Author's Note:**

> The author is neither an academic nor a scientist; jargon was taken with much squinting at wikipedia.


End file.
